


Internalised

by The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Ableism, Autism, Gallifrey Sucks, Neurodiversity, Other, autism headcanon, neurodivergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea/pseuds/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea
Summary: The Doctor has a meltdown in front of The Master.





	Internalised

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natalunasans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalunasans/gifts).
  * Inspired by [S.I.B](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004407) by [natalunasans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalunasans/pseuds/natalunasans). 



> I love natalunasans work and wanted to show her how much I love it, so this is for her. She's the best! <3

The Doctor was up at approximately three in the morning for the fifth time this week. 

It was an approximation, The Master thought to himself, because his time sense was still crippled… in all honesty, he was beginning to doubt that it would ever return to the capacity it once ran at. It was less a feeling of becoming disconnected than a feeling of emptiness that sat like an ache in his chest.

His digression had the endless pain in his head recede for a second. It wasn’t… concern. He scolded and tucked himself back into his well-worn hoodie. It wasn’t.

Still, he turned up in the library where they were all hunched up in a highbacked chair, nose stuck in a book. They looked taut in a way the Master hadn’t seen before. He reached out a tentative telepathic link to them and were met with a roiling static. It stole his breath with the sheer weight of it, as if their mind was full of hot gravel. 

[Doctor?]

No answer, just a hunching of shoulders and a sharp breath in. He tried again, impatience seeping in. 

[Doctor, look at me.] 

Their head snapped up. Though the static didn’t cease, it did change in its feel; it was colored with a tinge of panic. A few ideas leaked from the Doctor’s head and into the Master’s: [Scared. Falling from tree, breaking leg scared. Taking on water in lungs scared.] An image of drowning came up, breaking up into the damnable static once more as full-blown terror overtook them. 

The Master found himself breathless, shuddering right alongside the Doctor. The taste of rust tanged on his tongue as his teeth sliced through his cheek. They both sank to their knees at the same time, the Doctor’s hands tangled in their hair and tugging hard.

They let out a shriek and ripped at their hair as the Master looked on, amazed. He’d never seen this from the Doctor, not in all their years together. Reaching out created waves of pain that reverberated through them both, misery feeding on misery until all was a dark shadow. He was forced to turn tail, retreat into his own mindscape, and observe. 

The Doctor seemed to flinch at his withdrawal, crawling over to the wall and smashing their forehead against it. That, at least, the Master could recognize; he’d done much the same in an effort to take the pain in his head away. It had varied results and the results were inconclusive as of yet, but the Master had an in. He understood, in some small way, that the Doctor was trying to alleviate pain. 

He checked the Doctor over, frowning when nothing somatic seemed off. They were hale and hearty, except this… this outburst… he’d have to search more. 

Nothing for it, then. He’d need a physical contact to really see what was troubling them. Physical contact was considered a vulnerability at best and an invasion at worst to Gallifreyans, so this would be tricky… he signaled his intention and leaned in, pressing a firm palm to their chest.

The effect was instant. They all but melted in relief, leaning up against his hand. At the same time, though, they began putting up barriers as quick as they could. No matter if the Master saw them like this, he couldn’t know. They’d kept it a secret for so long…

Finding a crack in the mental wall the Doctor was so hastily constructing was akin to playing a game of chess against them. They pushed back, but the Master diverted them with an old memory of them playing on Gallifrey and let himself in. It wasn’t very kind, but seeing the Doctor like this had jolted any attempt at the subtleties of telepathic etiquette right from the Master’s head. 

[Autism meltdown painful sensory hell--]

Then he was forced from the Doctor’s mind, and they shoved him away, hard. The Master looked at them like an affronted cat, but they didn’t notice. They opened their mouth to tell him to leave them the BLOODY hell alone-- and nothing came forth. 

The Master cocked his head, studying them. They saw pity in his eyes, and they turned away. Gods, they hated him in that moment, more than they’d ever hated anyone.

And then there was pressure against them, glorious pressure. The Master was hugging them tightly. A thousand unsaid words passed between them-- an assurance that they were not less than, but at the same time a thrill of excitement that they both were finally on equal footing from the Master, gratitude from the Doctor, and finally a feeling of relief sweeping through both of their minds. So linked were they that they both sighed at the same time. 

The Doctor curled into the Master closer, relishing this moment of contact, and the Master was ashamed to think that he leaned in, too, holding them protectively. For once it felt as if he were the comforter and not the comforted, the strong one instead of the weak one. It was a new angle to explore and ultimately exploit, but right now that was the furthest thing from his mind.

They held each other, and that was enough.


End file.
